


On Fevers and Fatherhood

by beckettemory



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (in the past), Families of Choice, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Influenza, Overuse of anachronism preceded by 'fantasy', Sickfic, The Boys Adopt Angus McDonald, but references to reveals in Lunar Interlude 4, set sometime between Lunar Interludes 3 and 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:20:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10533507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beckettemory/pseuds/beckettemory
Summary: Angus McDonald, world's greatest detective and your very good friend sirs, can take care of himself.Oh, these sniffles? Just allergies. This chill is from the Bureau turning on the fantasy air conditioners too soon. And the bags under his eyes are from staying up too late reading or practicing magic. Of course.(Taako and Magnus don't believe a word of it, but Merle is planetside and took his healing spells with him.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for: mentions of nausea and vomiting, unsanitary stuff, mention of death, references to past child abuse and discussion of the resulting trauma responses, references to spousal death, vague threats of violence, mention of fantasy doctors and fantasy medicine and fantasy needles

Angus McDonald was the world’s greatest detective. He’d graduated fantasy high school at nine years old and left home shortly thereafter. He’d lived on his own in Neverwinter for a year and a half before joining the Bureau of Balance, and he’d taught himself almost everything he knew. He had a job, and his own dorm room on the fake second moon, and he had lots of friends to talk to and train under.

Angus McDonald could take care of himself.

Well, normally.

It was turning into spring on the fake second moon and that meant his allergies were kicking into high gear, and a few late nights practicing magic with Taako or raiding Carey’s library meant he was exhausted. And the post-nasal drip from his allergies was making him nauseous, and all around Angus McDonald was not feeling very well.

The Director had left a few days ago on her own mission, taking Davenport and a couple of guards with her. Angus spent some days shadowing her or sneaking Bureau files out of her office to read in secret in a stairwell in the basement of the Icosagon, but her office, indeed her whole _wing_ in that dome was locked up tight in her absence. Avi was off-duty and probably sleeping. Carey and Killian were planetside on leave for the weekend to shop for their upcoming wedding. Johann was in a deep depression after feeding what he had called his “magnum opus” to the Voidfish and had squirrelled himself away in his quarters for a week (Angus had been checking on him every day; he was alright, just sad).

Which meant the only people on the whole secret moon base Angus could hang out with today were the Reclaimers, but he couldn’t find any of them.

After wandering around the hallway outside their quarters for a few minutes and poking his head into the Icosagon and Fantasy Costco (his head pounded as the jingle played too loud and he left as soon as he realized the store was quiet as a tomb), he shuffled into the dining hall to sit and read for a while. He was too tired to make the trek all the way back across campus and up two flights of stairs to his dorm.

There were only a few people here, and he’d never really talked to any of them. They paid him no attention, all finishing up their lunches, and he picked a seat close to the door but out of the way, with his back against the gently curving wall.

He’d grabbed his favorite Caleb Cleveland novel on his way out of his room for this exact situation, and he opened it up to the first page.

_“Uncle Iris had always told the children that animals belonged in the yard, not the house, but here he was, holding a baby bunny in the palm of his hand and peering at it with a very peculiar look on his face. Sitting in a row at his feet were the triplets, Hamish, Magnolia, and--”_

A huge sneeze ripped out of Angus with no warning and echoed through the dining hall. What little conversation there had been fell silent and a couple of people turned in their chairs to look at him in surprise.

“Sorry,” he croaked as he reached for a fantasy paper napkin from the dispenser. His hankie (embroidered with his initials) was already useless, he’d blown his nose so many times already that morning.

By the time Angus made it through the first chapter of his book the table around him was littered with crumpled napkins and his nose felt chapped. The Bureau had apparently already switched on the fantasy air conditioners, and a couple weeks too soon, because the dining hall was frigid, the chill leaching through his sweater and Oxford shirt.

He was alone in the dining hall now, so he didn't feel self-conscious about scooting his seat back a couple inches and drawing his knees up to his chin. He hugged his knees and kept reading, only moving to turn the page or reach for a napkin to blow his nose.

He was a page away from the end of chapter two when he heard loud, familiar voices nearing the door, but he didn’t have the presence of mind or reflexes to move into a less-embarrassing sitting position before Taako and Magnus came in.

“I swear, he’s going to let me die one of these days,” Magnus was saying, sounding exasperated but still amused.

“I’m starting to think the whole ‘cleric’ thing is just a ruse,” Taako said as they entered the dining hall. “Have you ever actually seen him reading that Bible?”

Magnus noticed Angus. “Hey, short-stop,” he called with a wave. He kept going, heading for the cafeteria line, but Taako came over to Angus instead.

“You know, fantasy paper napkins aren’t recyclable,” Taako said, gesturing to the small mountain of snot-filled napkins.

Angus put his knees down and smiled tiredly at Taako. “It’s allergy season,” he explained.

Taako smiled gently. “I think you passed ‘allergy season’ about half a package of napkins back, pumpkin.”

Angus recoiled automatically as Taako reached for him, and Taako’s hand stopped. He pulled his hand back and sat quietly in the seat next to Angus.

“Can I feel your forehead, Ango?” Taako asked.

A laugh bubbled out of Angus before he could stop it. “I’m not sick,” he insisted, but even after he stopped laughing he kept shuddering silently, and he knew Taako could see it.

“Come on, kid detective,” Taako said with a smile. “I’m sure you can put these pieces together.”

Angus shook his head but leaned back into his normal position, silently letting Taako put a cool palm on his forehead.

“Oof, Ango, you could bake cookies on that skin,” he said, withdrawing his hand.

Angus laughed at the image that put in his head, and the shudders persisted even stronger and longer than before. He pulled his knees back up to his chest, feeling like that time his Ray of Frost attempt backfired on him and he had to wear a thick sweater and sit in front of a roaring fire in the middle of August for a few days.

Magnus emerged empty-handed from the back room where the serving tables were and headed back towards them.

“Nothing looked good,” he explained with a shrug. When he reached them he looked down at the table with a little laugh. “Is your book that sad, Angus?”

“It’s allergy season,” Angus repeated, resting his chin on his knees.

Magnus raised his eyebrows at Taako, who wore a knowing smirk. “Somebody didn’t get his fantasy flu shot this year,” Taako said.

“Aha!” Magnus said, and leaned across the table to feel Angus’s forehead for himself. Angus let him, fighting against the reflex to lean away. Magnus let out a low whistle. “Yep,” he said, pointing at Angus. “That’s a flu.”

Angus frowned. “No, no, um, thank you for your concern, sirs, but I’m not sick. I can take care of myself.”

Taako stood and stretched languidly. “Maybe so on a normal day, but you’ve got a bigass fever and I’d be willing to bet you’re dehydrated.”

Magnus hummed agreement. “You’re not gonna get better eating that crap, either,” he said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder towards the kitchens.

“You should be in bed, bubbeleh,” Taako said. “Not a good idea, getting everyone sick out here.”

Angus shrugged helplessly. “I don’t want to walk all the way back to my dorm. I didn’t sleep good last night and I’m tired.”

Magnus and Taako exchanged a long look, complete with facial expressions Angus didn’t have the energy to process, but apparently they had a whole silent conversation because when they turned back to him they seemed united in a new goal.

“Alright, Ango, how ‘bout this,” Taako said. “You can come to our quarters and I’ll make some chicken soup.”

“You and me can watch tv or you can take a nap,” Magnus chimed in.

“And when Dad-- _Merle_ gets back from planetside he can cast a quick Lesser Restoration and you’ll be shipshape,” Taako said.

Angus sighed. He could recognize when arguments were lost before they even started, and he didn’t have the energy to even start this one.

Suddenly his stomach twisted and he clapped both hands over his mouth. Taako took a step back, alarmed, but Magnus rushed in, holding his hands out helplessly and then rubbing Angus’s back soothingly as he fought to control his nausea.

When at last Angus could breathe without the threat of vomiting everywhere, he dropped his hands.

“You alright there, kiddo?” Magnus asked.

Angus nodded tiredly.

Taako reached over, produced a spectral bookmark with a flick of his wrist, and tucked it between the pages of Angus’s book before closing it. “Come on, pumpkin.”

Angus nodded again and slowly got to his feet, the fight long since drained out of him.

“You want a ride?” Taako asked, and when Angus nodded Taako gestured to Magnus. “You heard the little man, carry him.”

Magnus grumbled but obligingly got to his knees to let Angus climb up on his back while Taako disposed of the small mountain of napkins.

When they got to the Reclaimers’ quarters Magnus gently deposited Angus on the couch and handed over the fantasy remote control. Taako handed him a slip of paper and a small pouch of coins and shooed him back out the door, then set about gathering extra pillows and blankets. When Angus was situated on the couch, Taako took his handkerchief and set it on the coffee table, then showed him how to clean it with Prestidigitation. Angus remembered learning that a few weeks ago, but in his brain fog he’d completely forgotten.

Then Taako disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Angus with the fantasy television on and playing a Fantasy History Channel documentary about ancient druids.

Angus dozed, only waking when Magnus returned, handing a Fantasy Costco bag to Taako and depositing a fresh pair of pajamas on Angus’s form bundled up in two blankets.

“Thank you, sir,” Angus said weakly, almost crying out of gratitude.

“No problem, kiddo,” Magnus said, waving him off. “You don’t hafta call me ‘sir,’ you know that right?”

Angus shrugged and padded into the bathroom to change into his train-print pajamas. When he emerged he passed Magnus’s room, and though the door was closed he could hear Magnus talking on the other side.

“Merle. You there?” He paused, then cursed. “Old man never answers his stone while he’s out…” he mumbled to himself. “Uh, fine. Merle, it’s me. Call back when you get this. Ango’s got the flu, and me and Taako don’t have healing spells.” Magnus paused again. “Hope everything’s fine down there. Sorry we make fun of your healing all the time. See you tonight.”

Angus scurried back to the couch, pulling the blankets over himself just as Magnus’s door opened. He snuggled down into the soft blankets in an attempt to look like he hadn’t been snooping. Magnus popped his head into the kitchen to tell Taako something, then came back with some kind of potion in a clear bottle and a bendy straw sticking out of it.

“Here,” he said, handing the bottle to Angus. “You gotta keep drinking fluids.”

Angus turned the bottle of blue liquid in his hands until he found the label. _"Fantasy Gatorade,"_  it read. He took a trial sip and was surprised by how good it tasted. Usually flu potions tasted horrible.

“Scooch over, kiddo,” Magnus said, moving his hand in a shooing motion.

Angus sat up and moved so Magnus could sit on the couch with him. Magnus squinted at the fantasy television. “What’s this?” he asked.

“I didn’t see it come on because I was asleep,” Angus said between sips of the Fantasy Gatorade, “but it looks like some kind of documentary about the astral plane.”

Magnus made a face. “That’s not what the astral plane looks like,” he complained.

Angus passed him the remote and he flicked through the channels, humming assessments of each one until he had looped all the way back around to the Fantasy History Channel. He handed the remote back.

“Guess this is the only thing on,” he said.

They watched the documentary together, Magnus pointing out inaccuracies and Angus asking questions, until Taako came in with a steaming bowl of soup.

“Best chicken soup in all of Faerûn,” Taako said as he put the bowl down in front of Angus. “And the rest of the world. And probably several other planets, if not other planes, too,” he added with a wink as he produced a spoon. “Or my name isn’t Taako Taaco.”

“Don’t I get any?” Magnus whined.

 _“You_ can get the soup yourself,” Taako said, flicking his fingers at Magnus. He turned back to Angus. “How ya feelin’, Ango?”

“I’m feeling a lot better, sir,” Angus said, lying a little so Taako would feel appreciated.

Taako smiled. “Can I feel your head again?”

Angus leaned towards him and Taako’s hand pressed to his cheek and then the back of his neck, and Angus recoiled automatically. He dropped the spoon and both his hands flew to cover his neck. He slumped down on the couch and his knees curled up to his chest, hiding his face from view and his squishy parts from danger.

Angus breathed shakily, tears pricking at the corners of his scrunched-up eyes, berating himself for being so jumpy, for being needy, for getting sick in the first place. He felt eyes on him and then sensed a silent conversation happening over his head.

“Angus,” Taako said softly after almost a minute. Angus flinched and didn’t move. “Ango.” Taako paused again, and when he spoke his voice was closer, like he had sat down. “I’m sorry, mijo. No harm intended.”

When Angus could finally uncurl and look up, he saw Taako crouching a fair distance away and Magnus sitting as far from him as the couch would allow. Both were watching him with concern.

“I’m sorry,” Angus blurted, his face heating up and his shivers starting up again. “I didn’t mean--I just got startled. You’re so good to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip to keep from babbling and embarrassing himself even more.

Taako let out a pained breath and sat on the floor, then scooted a little closer. “Ango, honey, it’s alright. It was my fault.”

“You’re safe here, Angus,” Magnus added gently.

Angus shivered and nodded, not entirely believing them but knowing they’d drop it and leave him alone if he played along. “Yes, sirs.”

“Angus,” Taako said, and waited until he looked at him. “I promise.”

Angus felt a shiver run up his spine that wasn’t because of cold or weakness or fear, but because of the distinct feeling that Taako was being completely sincere for once.

“Okay,” Angus whispered. He wiped his eyes and picked up his spoon.

Taako smiled encouragingly and stood up. “Don’t eat too fast, pumpkin, don’t want to get nauseous again.”

He went back into the kitchen and Angus could hear him singing a song to himself under the clatter of dishes in the sink.

Angus took an experimental bite of soup to his mouth and he hummed despite himself as the rich broth washed over his tongue. It was warm and savory, with rice and small chunks of chicken and vegetables. Taako wasn’t lying when he said it was the best soup in Faerûn.

Magnus got comfortable again and watched the documentary that still played quietly, and apart from a furtive glance every few minutes he left Angus alone.

Taako came back with two more bowls of soup and handed one to Magnus, then sank to sit on the floor cross-legged, leaning against the front of the couch.

“This soup is really good, sir,” Angus said quietly, still shaking but rapidly calming as he tired out.

Taako looked up with a cocky grin. “I know, kiddo.”

Magnus shoved a spoonful in his mouth. “It’s okay,” he said with his mouth full, and Taako elbowed him hard in the shin, causing him to spit-take a little. Angus stifled a giggle.

“Is this supposed to be the astral plane?” Taako asked, ignoring Magnus’s complaints.

 

* * *

 

Magnus rubbed at his brow absentmindedly. The astral plane documentary had ended a couple of hours ago and he’d clicked around until he found a fantasy football game. He didn’t follow either team (how could he, he lived on the moon and his job could call him planetside at any minute) but it was something other than yet another fantasy pawn shop show.

Angus had eaten a fair amount of soup and lain back down, falling asleep in seconds. He was restless, his little feet kicking under the blankets, and his fever wasn’t letting up. He lay curled up with his head on the other arm of the couch, but the narrowness of the couch meant his heels brushed Magnus’s thigh and side when he kicked particularly hard and Magnus could easily reach over to brush his knuckles against his temple to gauge his temperature.

It felt natural.

Picking up flu supplies and packing an overnight bag. Estimating a temperature with a brief touch. It came so easily. Nicknames just rolled off his tongue like he’d had years of practice.

He was old enough to have a kid Angus’s age. He might’ve had a son himself by now if things were different.

The sun had set over Rockport and the fake moon. The living room of his quarters was dark, lit only by the fantasy television screen and the light spilling out of the kitchen, but it was enough to see Angus by when he checked in every few minutes.

He remembered the horrible, horrible terror that had flashed across the boy’s face earlier and the panicked apologies, the shivers that had made the whole couch tremble.

Someone had hurt Angus McDonald and Magnus knew without a doubt that if he ever found out who, they wouldn’t live to see the next sunrise.

 

* * *

 

Merle took his time returning to the glass ball that would float him back up to the secret moon base. Mavis and Mookie had been in rare form, both demanding attention in conflicting ways so he’d had little choice than to indulge both of them alternatively. Natural history museum and a short magic lesson for Mavis, interspersed with a massive sundae and a game of beach volleyball with Mookie.

People always talked about how hard parenting was, but he was starting to think being a deadbeat dad was somehow more difficult.

When he got settled in his seat and the balloon deployed, he sat back to watch the ascent and do some stargazing. He’d barely cleared the trees, though, when he felt something impossibly hot in his hip pouch. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable, so he carefully dug around in the pouch until his fingers brushed the scalding object.

His Stone of Far-Speech cooled instantly when he pulled it free from his bag and acknowledged it with a few choice words, and instead flashed an aquamarine light intermittently. A message. He opened it.

 _“Merle. You there?”_ Magnus asked, his voice muffled by the rock. He was silent for about a quarter minute. _“Uh, fine. Merle, it’s me. Call back when you get this. Ango’s got the flu, and me and Taako don’t have healing spells.”_ Magnus paused again. _“Hope everything’s fine down there. Sorry we make fun of your healing all the time. See you tonight.”_

Merle sighed and slipped the stone back into his pouch. He was out of magic at the moment, having expended all but his cantrips teaching Mavis and keeping Mookie entertained.

Still, though, he had a good forty-five minutes until he reached the Bureau. He could rest up enough to pop off a healing spell before bed.

Magnus had sounded worried. It wasn’t something Merle heard often, and to be frank it was a little surprising that it was in reference to Angus McDonald, the moon’s most teased inhabitant.

Angus was a good kid. Polite to a fault, compassionate, an incredibly fast learner. He’d make one hell of a cleric.

But first he had to survive a little flu.

Merle got himself comfy and put his Xtreme Teens Bible on his lap, then pressed his palm to the cover and felt some sort of energy jolt from the book up through his hand to his shoulder. An acknowledgement.

“Hey Pan,” he said conversationally. “It’s me. Highchurch.”

He closed his eyes and focused hard on the power coursing through his arm.

“That kid of mine is in trouble,” he said. “Not my kids by blood, my moon base kid. I need the energy to heal him when I get back up there. Can you hook me up?”

He felt the energy equivalent of an elevator _ping!_ tap into his palm, and he grinned.

“Thanks Pan. Talk later. See ya.” He ended the prayer, rubbing his palms together to make a dry, whispery sound. “Amen.”

 

* * *

 

The living room was too dark for Magnus to see by, but it was easy for Taako to read the book in his lap. Or it should have been easy, light-wise. Instead he found himself toying absentmindedly with a strand of hair and watching Angus sleep restlessly. He’d half-woken a while ago and cuddled into Magnus’s side, and he now lay with his whole torso in Magnus’s lap.

Taako set his book aside and stood silently, careful not to wake Angus or Magnus, the latter of whom had nodded off on account of not being able to move. He crossed the room and pressed a gentle hand to Angus’s forehead.

Still burning up. If this fever didn’t let up soon they’d have to track down someone else on campus to heal him instead of waiting for Merle, and the medics the Bureau employed were douches.

It wouldn’t take the world’s greatest detective to figure out why he felt so protective of Angus. He saw himself in the boy, or rather, he saw a reflection of his younger self in him. On his own from a young age and not treated well before that. The same reflexes, the same curiosity, the same stubbornness, the same bright eyes.

He didn’t want Angus’s bright eyes to turn into Taako’s suspicious ones.

Taako pushed that train of thought firmly into the illusory botanical garden and snapped the port wand behind it. Not helpful.

Just as he cast Prestidigitation on Angus’s hankie to freshen it up, the door opened and Merle came in.

“Evening, Jus--Taako,” Merle greeted as he began shedding his boots and cloaks at the door.

Taako shushed him gently.

“Sorry,” Merle whispered. “Where’s the invalid?”

Taako pointed over his shoulder at the lumpy mass on the couch. Merle followed his finger and took in the scene and let out a throaty chuckle. When he was free of his extraneous items he padded over to the couch and smoothed Angus’s hair off of his forehead, then rested the back of his fingers on the skin there.

Taako watched expectantly for some kind of change in Angus, but the only thing he saw was a slight furrow of Merle’s brow. Alarmed, he put his hand back on Angus’s cheek and felt that it was still just as feverish as before.

He didn’t know how healing spells worked, but he knew this one was touch-based and instantaneous. Angus’s fever should have broken immediately.

“What happened?” he asked Merle, trying to keep his voice quiet under his anxiety. “What went wrong? Why is he still burning up?”

Merle looked confused. “I haven’t… cast the spell yet.”

Taako let out a sigh of relief. He pulled his hand back and gestured to Angus, indicating that Merle should get on with it.

Merle rolled his eyes but complied nonetheless. He pushed his sleeves up past his elbows and rubbed his hands together briskly to make a raspy sound, then pressed his hand back to Angus’s forehead, firmly this time.

“By the power of Pan,” Merle murmured, and Taako watched, fascinated, as a faint wave of blue light shining out of Merle’s skin traveled down his arm and into Angus’s head and then all the way down the boy’s body, shining faintly through the blankets. And then it was gone, and Merle rubbed his hands together again. “Amen.”

Taako watched anxiously as a sweat broke out on Angus’s still-sleeping face and his previously-flushed cheeks returned to their normal color. He felt his forehead again and relief washed over him. He was cooling down, and fast. The fever had broken.

Merle checked again himself and then smiled tiredly at Taako. He shouldered past him towards the kitchen, patting Taako on the back as high as he could reach as he passed.

“First fever’s always the scariest,” Merle said.

Taako hummed. “Leftover soup in the fridge,” he said quietly.

“Awesome.”

Taako checked Angus’s forehead once more, just in case, and finally let himself relax. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work in the TAZ fandom and it was a lot of fun to write. feedback is appreciated, and i'll add warnings for anything requested (i tried to get the more common ones but i may have missed one or two). 
> 
> some stuff:  
> -i headcanon that when the boys slip up and say ooc things in character voices the characters actually say it in canon. hence the name slip-ups  
> -my partner has written an incredible fic about ango and taako's similarities as abuse survivors and i highly recommend it. https://archiveofourown.org/works/10303817  
> -cause of death: found families calling each other pet names or saying the family words  
> -ango is my beautiful baby son and i love him so
> 
> anyway, thanks so much for reading!


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